


won't you let me drop my guard

by theonewiththeeyebrows (painfullystoic)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Knotting, College Student!Stiles, Derek has bad luck, Derek thinks about Kate and Jennifer in one solitary statement, Drunk!Cora, Drunk!Laura, I'm sorry about the random update. I found a few typos, Implied Mpreg, Laura and Cora are twins, M/M, Omega!Stiles, Sheriff is an alcoholic, Unsafe Sex, alpha!Derek, and also realized that I posted this as a work from 2017 when it's actually a 2018 post. FML., but there's the bit with blood exchange so.... yeah, cora & stiles friendship, generally speaking, late night at walgreens, mild-blood play, not explicitly mentioned: The Hales are werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painfullystoic/pseuds/theonewiththeeyebrows
Summary: Laura and Cora are drunk.Shut up, Derek. It's their party! They can do what they want to.Derek is a bit paranoid.Stiles is a bit of a hot mess.





	won't you let me drop my guard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ssleif](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssleif/gifts).



> Dear ssleif, 
> 
> I hope this is subversive enough? I tried my best, and I know that the ABO element is very overt, but I wasn't trying to have it be very obvious — its part of their lives and they're both comfortable with who they are — the good, the bad and the ugly.
> 
> I really hope you like this! <3
> 
> *** 
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing [FiccinDylan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/profile). They were pivotal to making this flow better, and gave me the opportunity to add some essential bits that I didn't know this fic was lacking. All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone (duh!). 
> 
> ***
> 
> There is a small bit of blood play. I didn't even think of it until FiccinDylan went — Blood Play? It's ok I'm here for it.

When Derek gets Laura’s message telling him there is an emergency. He panics. That’s perhaps an understatement, but that’s how Derek’s going to retell it. For him, emergencies are ‘someone died’, ‘the house is on fire’, or maybe even ‘there are ritualistic sacrifices going on in the forest’, and perhaps that is telling of Derek’s personality but after the luck he’s had, it isn’t really surprising. So, it is both funny and terrifying that Laura chose to word her message thus. When Derek gets to Laura’s apartment expecting a significant event of apocalyptic proportions, and the door opens to Laura’s laughing face with her pushing an empty bucket in his hands saying, “there’s no ice!” -- like that’s an emergency -- Derek has a meltdown. It probably isn’t one of Derek’s finer moment, but when life hands Laura lemons she makes lemonade, and when life hands Derek lemons, life calls it that, but they aren’t really lemons at all — they’re probably grapefruit or worse, durian.

His baby sister asked this of him, so _of course_ Derek’s standing in the middle of Walgreens trying to find a bag of ice cubes and not giant unusable blocks. He’s trying to figure out whether he wants to walk the six blocks to the next store when the door to the store bangs open and this kid stumbles in all false bravado and zero coordination. He asks one of the attendants for XXL Condoms, and the attendant looks at him up and down frowning. The kid looks like he weighs a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet — he’s lanky, and sure that’s no indication of penile length and girth, but really?

There’s a small Asian girl standing next to Derek wearing a Walgreens uniform and glaring at him like he’s the cause of all her problems. Because of course, it is his luck that every single bag in this godforsaken _Walgreens_ is filled with ice blocks. He pleads with her to get him a fresh bag of ice cubes and she just huffs and storms away like he’s just made her day worse. He goes into the hardware aisle to check if he can find an ice pick or chisel because he _is not_ walking six blocks to CVS, and the kid is there loading his arms with every single roll of duct-tape the store owns.

 _What?_ Derek asks himself, _what would someone want to do with XXL condoms and all the duct-tape ever?_ And _ohhh — nope_. Derek doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He picks up the pick and two bags of block ice, and he hopes he doesn’t stab himself trying to chip ice.

He’s at the counter paying his $25.99 bill when he hears the loud crash, which Derek assumes is the kid because there is nobody else here at this time of night, but he’s already been completely boggled by him that he doesn’t want to know. But the cashier apologizes and tells him to wait a minute as the code for what Derek assumes is “all hands on deck” blares through the loudspeaker. Derek scowls. He was so close to getting out of here.

The cashier returns with the kid and a cart full of duct tape, XXL Condoms, three giants bottles of lube, and Gorilla Glue in tow, and sets him up behind Derek. And _NOPE_ , Derek _DOES NOT_ want to know. 

He growls impatiently as he makes the cashier exchange his bags of now somewhat melted ice, and snarls as the scared teenager hands over the fresh bags and his change. He refused to be bothered with whatever the kid behind him is doing — he’s a hot mess.

* * *

Derek is in the kitchen chiseling makeshift ice-cubes out of the ice block when he hears the doorbell ring. Cora, Laura’s twin and the other bane of his existence, squeals, and there’s a giant crash. Derek, feeling responsible for his sisters, because he’s the only sober person in the apartment, goes outside to see what mess he’s going to have to deal with. 

And of course, it is _just his luck_ that the hot mess of a kid is here making a mess of the twins’ apartment. At first, Derek thinks the asshole followed him here, but Cora’s squealing over the hot mess honoring his word, and if he’s friends with Cora then he’s probably not really a kid. _Omega then_ , Derek’s mind provides. Omega biology has them predisposed to being lean — as much as they may try the estrogen and progesterone keep them softer than the muscles Alphas are able to pack on. The alluring scent of him and the way his long figure move as he gestures, the plumpness of his lips and the subtle flare in his hips -- _how could Derek have missed it? It is so obvious._

Cora laughs as the kid jumps up and brushes himself off. Cora kisses him on the cheek and pulls him inside, introducing him to Laura and her friends, and Derek decides he doesn’t need to watch this and goes back to cutting ice.

“Derek!” Cora says, half giggling. And Derek turns around to face them.

The boy’s eyes widen and a blush spreads across his cheeks and down his neck in the most alluring way. Derek swallows the lump forming in his throat.

“ _This_ is my friend, Stiles!” Cora says, grinning brightly. Derek raises an eyebrow.

“Hi — Um — I didn’t — it wasn’t —” The boy stammers.

“It’s okay. Everyone here is an adult.” Derek says diplomatically.

“No!” The boy says, eyes darting down to where his foot cuffs the floor distractedly

Cora disappears, clearly uninterested in whatever is unfolding here, and also because her friends call her over.

“So you weren’t at the store buying condoms and an obscene amount of duct-tape.” Derek asks, voice rougher than it usually is.

“Uh — but that —”

“Like I said we’re all adults. You’re allowed to do what you want with your body.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, heart beating loudly in Derek’s ears. Stiles’ face loses it’s startled look, and his eyes shine brightly.

“Ok, well,” Derek says, jerking a thumb towards the ice block. “I better get back to it.”

“I can help,” Stiles says.

“Aren’t you here for the party though?” Derek asks.

“Ah, yes. Kinda. Uh — Cora told me I didn’t have an option.”

Derek laughs. “She steamrolled you.”

Stiles laughs too, “Yeah, I guess she did. She’s kinda a force of nature.”

Derek hands Stiles the ice pick and grabs the knife that's lying on the counter and they try to cut ice.

* * *

“So, you aren’t much of a drinker, eh?” Stiles asks.

“You aren’t drinking either.”

“Ah. Well, my Dad’s an alcoholic.” Stiles says earnestly, and Derek gapes at him. “What? I’m not ashamed. My dad is awesome. He’s just human and has problems too. Anyways, I’ve been drunk all of _one_ time. It was in high school after the girl of my dreams rejected me publicly in the most humiliating and absolutely heart-rending way possible. I single-handedly finished an entire bottle of Jack in the middle of the forest.”

“Wow. Aren’t you a thrill seeker.” Derek states mildly. Stiles pauses, hands shaking slightly and eyes wide. Derek tracks back, “I didn’t mean —”

“It’s fine.” Stiles says, “But when you do that and end up in the hospital with Alcohol Poisoning and a disappointed father, it affects you. Plus, alcohol tastes like shit.”

“Ah. Right. Well. I’m sorry that happened to you,” Derek says unsure of how to respond. He hunches down into himself and stabs the ice block violently. The knife catches twice, the third time it slides and careens into his hand and he groans.

“Oh my god!” Stiles yelps, jumping up and scrambling for something.

“I’m fine,” Derek says, but Stiles lifts his injured hand and sticks the bloody fingers in his mouth. Which —

Derek’s eyes widen. Omegas have proteins in their saliva that can help speed up the healing process, but this is a first for him. Stiles is staring at Derek wide-eyed and confused like he didn’t expect to be putting Derek’s fingers in his mouth or licking up his cuts like they aren’t acquaintances. Stiles’ blush is back full force and Derek can’t take his eyes away from the blood staining Stiles’ lips like a claim.

“Fuuuuck,” Derek whines as Stiles’ tongues the cut, eyes rolling back into his head. Stiles’ pupils are dilated like he’s high and Derek’s getting hard. It’s a minor feat to get Derek so flustered, but this kid has been doing it all night, ever since Derek laid eyes on him the first time.

Stiles’ nostrils flare and his eyes meet Derek’s. He puts his free hand over Derek’s other hand, and places it gently against his own erection. Derek shudders. He pulls his hand from Stiles’ mouth and drags him forward for a kiss, the metallic tang of blood jarring and intoxicating. Stiles whines, fingers threading through Derek’s hair and tugging painfully as he takes control of the kiss and makes it filthy.

“Can we go somewhere?” Stiles asks, lust-drunk.

“I live two blocks away,” Derek says, stupidly.

“Perfect,” Stiles says, grabbing the hand and tugging Derek out of Laura and Cora’s apartment.

Stiles stops at a blue jeep and pulls out his Walgreens bag and slipping a few condoms into his pockets, Derek stares but doesn’t say anything. It’s not like it is his place to, and it is not like he has anything at home. The last time he slept with someone, she was using him for his Alpha power, that was four years ago. And sure Derek masturbates, but it’s usually an exercise in self-flagellation.

Derek presses up against Stiles and kisses him against his Jeep, and Stiles moans and slips his leg up to press against Derek’s erection. Derek doesn’t act this way. He isn’t this reckless, but something about Stiles makes him want to be.

* * *

They make it up to the apartment, red-nosed from the cold but warm from being unable to keep their hands off each other. Derek turns around and gropes for his keys, Stiles is plastered against his back, nipping at his shoulders. He shivers, almost losing grip on the keys when Stiles’ cold hand wander into the front of his pants.

As soon as the door closes, Derek presses Stiles against it and licks into Stiles’ mouth. His hands make short work of Stiles’ belt and he tosses it away. He has half a presence of mind to lock the door, and then he’s pulling Stiles forward by the mouth and he works on pulling his shirt out of his pants. Stiles’ hands scramble for purchase over Derek’s clothes.

By the time they’re in Derek’s room, breathless, Stiles is in his boxers and Derek is in his slacks, the tattered remains of his t-shirt sleeve catching over their entwined hands. He pulls Stiles in as close as they can get, and pushes his hand into the back of Stiles’ boxers. Derek was right, he’s an Omega. He presses his fingers against Stiles’ pucker smearing the slick he finds there and revels in the reverent gasp that leaves Stiles’ lungs. He pulls away, smiling at the small noise of protest that Stiles makes when Derek shoves him back onto the bed.

He flips Stiles over on the bed, pulling his hips up and back before he dives into Stiles’ hole. The taste of Stiles is exquisite and Derek laps at him hungrily. Stiles moans loudly, and Derek can hear his bed-sheet pop off the corner. He pushes his finger in against his tongue, and Stiles keens beautifully. His body rocking back on Derek’s tongue and fingers.

Stiles arches his back and reaches back. Hand reaching blindly for Derek. “Fuuuuck!” Stiles groans.

Derek smirks against Stiles’ hole, three fingers deep and massaging Stiles’ prostate in a way that makes him shudder beautifully. Stiles’ leg kicks out then, and Derek grunts at the force of it against his chest.

“Oh MY GOD!” Stiles says, scrambling over and reaching for Derek. “I’m so sorry. It just — I couldn’t — Sorry.”

Derek chuckles. “Impatient, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Stiles says scrambling for the condoms in his jeans. Derek watches as Stiles rips one open, inspects it and reaches to put it on Derek.

Stiles smirks when the condom is over the head, but then he bends and uses his mouth to push the rest of it on, and Derek gasps. Stiles’ tongue circles the head of his sheathed cock, and he sucks gently as he moves his mouth over Derek’s dick. 

Derek pulls him up, and kisses him deeply. When he tries to roll them over, Stiles presses a palm against Derek’s chest. “Stay.” He says, and Derek is loathed to not obey. 

He pushes Derek back to rest against the headboard, before straddling him. “Fuck me like this, _Alpha_.” Stiles breathes across Derek’s lips, his slick hand stroking Derek’s sheathed cock.

Derek lifts Stiles and presses his cock-head at Stiles’ slick hole, as Stiles bears down. Stiles squeezes against him in the most beautiful way as they allow gravity to seat him on Derek’s cock. He sighs against Stiles’ clavicle. He rolls his shoulders and presses his fingers into Stiles’ hips, holding him in place, but Stiles just grinds down on him. The swivel of his hips, blissful torture. He groans, teeth pressing against Stiles’ shoulder.

They way he’s positioned, legs splayed out on the bed gives him little to no leverage, and he shudders as Stiles uses his shoulders to give himself some added leverage.

He buries his face in Stiles’ neck, teeth sharper and claws extending against Stiles’ undulating hips. Stiles’ grip on Derek’s hair is teetering between pain and pleasure, but when he tries to bring his knees back, the grip tightens, causing him to yelp; dick going impossibly harder. He can feel every shudder of Stiles’ body every time his dick presses up against his prostate.

Derek’s canines scrape across the base of Stiles’ neck, and Stiles’ hand gentles, caressing Derek’s hair.

“Will you come for me, Alpha?” Stiles asks sweetly, and Derek’s fingers spasm where he’s holding Stiles.

“Will you set your teeth inside me?” Stiles asks, and Derek’s jaw tightens, but still not breaking skin.

“Can you feel it coming, Derek?” Stiles asks, and Derek nods his head minutely.

He’s only just met this man, but Derek already knows that he will crave Stiles once he’s gone, once the smell of him fades from Derek’s sheets. It makes him want to bite hard enough to mark, to mate, and the thought surprises Derek. It was never like this with Kate or Jennifer, and sure Kate was a Beta, but Jen was an Omega _too_ , but neither of them made him feel this weightless and free and he’d thought he was in love with them.

The thought of Stiles leaving sends a pang through Derek, and he pulls away from Stiles’ neck. He pulls Stiles close and turns them over. It dislodges him from within Stiles, but it’s worth it because the way Stiles looks splayed out on Derek’s bed is overwhelming. He presses his cock back into Stiles, and revels in Stiles’ sigh of satisfaction.

Derek relishes Stiles' whines when he bends to kiss Stiles. He smiles against Stiles' soft skin when Stiles laughs as Derek trails those kisses down Stiles’ neck leaving bruises in their wake.

Derek pulls out and presses in slowly. He’s sure that anything faster will make him nut hard and fast, and he wants to draw this out as much as possible, but Stiles locks his ankles behind Derek’s ass, and pulls him in, using Derek’s body for leverage, turning their union desperate and filthy. 

Derek’s hips piston into Stiles at a sharp pace. His breath hitches, his ass pitting tightly, and Stiles groaning softly in his ear. The burn pushing him to go faster, fold Stiles further, go deeper with every thrust. Stiles is keening beneath him, no longer controlling the motion, but giving as good as he’s taking it. Stiles fists the messy bedsheets and keens. He twines one hand into Derek’s head, pushing his head closer to Stiles’ throat.

“Fuck, oh fuck! Mate me.” Stiles whimpers incoherently. “Mate me, mate me, mate!” It’s a chant. A mantra playing in his ear. And Derek can feel it crescendo. It is nothing like anything he’s ever experienced. He pulls away from Stiles’ neck, and pulls him into a sloppy kiss. 

“Mate me!” Stiles cries out, pulling away from Derek's mouth, as his orgasm spills between them, untouched, and Derek is unable to hold back, his head pitches forward as his body curls unto itself as his orgasm tears out of him like something fierce. He can hear Stiles whimpering, distantly; the roaring in his ears unprecedented as it storms through him. And his hips are trying desperately to get closer, hitching tighter and tighter against Stiles.

 

He slumps forward and presses open-mouthed kisses along Stiles’ neck. Stiles’ chest is rising and falling rapidly against his own. Stiles whines as Derek continues to come, and tightens unbearably around him. Fuck he’s knotted.

Stiles is absentmindedly petting Derek’s hair, cooing soft nothings in his ear, and Derek never wants to move. He reluctantly pulls away and gives Stiles a sheepish look. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sorry. I was goading you. I’m surprised you didn’t bite me.” Stiles says, and Derek shoots him a scandalized look.

“We didn’t talk about that.” He hisses. He doesn’t want to think about Stiles leaving, but now it’s all he can think about. How Stiles will probably be gone before the sun breaks over the horizon.

“We didn’t talk about this either,” Stiles says tightening around Derek and making him drop his head and gasp wetly against Stiles’ neck. “I don’t mind. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before. And I don’t know how much longer I can have you leaning all your weight down on me.”

Derek mumbles an apology and tries to turn them over, groaning and moaning when the pull and push of the knot is too much to bear.

Once they’re lying comfortably on their sides, Stiles reaches out and cards his fingers through Derek’s hair again. The soft grind of Stiles’ hips compelling them to kiss lazily.

* * *

Derek startles awake when he feels his cock slip out of Stiles. It’s three in the morning, and Stiles whines as he wriggles closer and nuzzles into Derek’s throat.

Derek brushes Stiles’ hair off his sweaty forehead and pulls away to get a washcloth to wipe their crusty torsos. Stiles whines at the loss and turns over.

Derek doesn’t want to think about the morning. He doesn’t want to think about Stiles leaving him without so much as a goodbye, so he curls up behind Stiles, pulls him close and drifts into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Derek is running, he’s been running for what feels like hours. But he’s not the one who’s being hunted. He is hunting, searching for someone. He shifts, the smell of bacon is distracting, and he snuffs trying to find the scent he was searching for.

His rubs his face against the pillow as the sunlight pours in over his face at the right angle and he is slowly pulled out of his dream. He stares at the ceiling in confusion. The ache in his body unusual. He frowns and breathes in a lungful of bacon. He can hear the clatter of dishes banging together and the quiet “shhh” that follows.

He pushes the covers away and heads into the kitchen. There’s scrambled eggs and bacon on one plate and another has a few pancakes. Stiles is standing at the toaster and shaking his half-naked ass. “Good Morning.” Derek mumbles, crowding Stiles against the cabinets and pressing his mouth to a bruise he had worked hard to put on Stiles’ skin. Stiles jumps, bumping his shoulder into Derek’s face. Derek groans in agony.

Stiles grimaces. “I’m sorry, don’t kill me!”

Derek laughs, and Stiles freezes like a deer caught in headlights as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“I made breakfast,” Stiles says after a minute.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to,” Derek replies.

“Are you kidding? It’s the least I can do after —” Stiles’ blush intensifies.

“That good, huh?” Derek teases, smugly.

“ _Well_ —” Stiles’ eyes sparkle with humor.

“I’m gonna have to go buy more condoms!” Stiles groans, slapping a hand over his eyes. “You were not part of my plans for last night!”

Derek nods, smile faltering, but Stiles doesn’t seem to notice as he turns to check on the toast.

“I’m working on a piece depicting Omega oppression for art class, and the condoms and duct-tape are part of the piece. The store near campus is perpetually out of condoms and only seem to stock colorful duct-tape.” Stiles gripes, rambling on about the use of chains and ropes to depict things on his art piece like Derek has any clue what he’s talking about.

Derek’s smiling again, he feels light and happy -- playful even. “Is that why you bought the XXL condoms? To show that Alphas are metaphorical big dicks?” Derek asks.

Stiles laughs out loud, bodily, at that. “No, it was more about the idea that Alphas do fucked up shit to Omegas with regards to reproductive health. But that is fucking ingenious! I’ll have to use that.” Stiles exclaims. “It won’t be a direct quote for obvious reasons.”

“Obviously,” Derek interrupts, nodding sagely.

“But, it’s so perfect,” Stiles asks, eyes bright as he loads up his plate with pancakes layered with bacon and syrup. Derek feels torn between amusement and revulsion, as he loads his own plate with eggs and bacon.

“Glad I could be of assistance,” Derek says, shoving eggs into his mouth. “This is amazing by the way.”

Stiles hums happily around a mouthful of bacon and pancakes. “Thank you.”

It’s surprisingly easy sitting there with Stiles at the table and eating breakfast, but the time passes so quickly.

“Do you wanna take a shower?” Derek asks, and Stiles raises his eyebrows.

“Is that a proposition?”

“It _can_ be,” Derek says.

“Then yes!” Stiles smiles, “All the Yeses. But, I’m gonna have to borrow some clothes. I hate wearing old clothes after I’ve showered.”

Derek nods before crowding Stiles against the sink.

* * *

“Oh My God!” Cora exclaims when Stiles catches up with her in Mendoza’s class on Monday. “Did you guys fuck the whole weekend?”

“Keep your voice down,” Stiles hisses as Cora pretends to gag.

“You’re wearing his clothes.” Cora hisses back.

“He’s a gentleman, he let me,” Stiles says, primly. Picking an imaginary piece of lint off the long sleeved henley he’s wearing.

“Yeah. He’s like a 95-year-old trapped in the body of a 30-year-old.” Cora gripes.

“He’s wonderful,” Stiles says, smiling dopily at the memory of Derek stealing kisses as he pulled his own henley onto Stiles' leaner form.

“Really?” Cora asks skeptically.

“Yes, really!”

“Well, I’ll be damned. I mean I know that. But most people just want in my brother’s pants for some bizarre reason.”

“Yeah, because he’s fucking hot, bro,” Stiles says.

“But you actually like him,” Cora says in awe. Stiles’ ears turn red. “You do!”

“Shh!” Stiles shushes her, as though the people around him know who they’re talking about.

“I have to tell Laura!” Cora exclaims pulling out her phone to text her twin.

“Uh oh.”

“What?” Stiles asks, grabbing Cora’s forearm.

“Don’t kill me. But I accidentally sent it to the family group.” Cora grimaces.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Cora!” Stiles says, pulling the phone out of her limp hands to look morosely at the ellipse indicating that Derek has seen the message and is typing a response. He grins when it comes through, and deletes it before Cora can see it, and send himself Derek’s contact information.

 _Wanna be mine?_ Stiles types and sends. _This is Stiles_.

 _Yes_. Comes the reply a minute later.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> If you did, I hope you leave me a kudo. 
> 
> Comments are love, I really appreciate them.


End file.
